Breaking Destiny
by Celaeno
Summary: The Dragon's excuse for everything was always 'Destiny'. Too bad the Dragon never saw this coming.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a first fic, so please be gentle. The setting takes place in Season 4 just after Lamia.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin.**

_Prologue_

The cries of her clan were nearly drowned out by the sounds of battle and the tearing of the earth behind her as she ran deeper into the maze of tunnels. Skathach could feel her heart pounding in time with the swelling thrum of magic as she grew closer to the heart of Caladholg, the mountain home of the Curoi Clan. She could feel each pulse, calling upon her, drawing on her strength as she pushed her way through the group of terrified women and children, desperate to reach the central chamber to join her magic with that of the other Wardens of the Curoi as they raced to complete the ritual. She could feel the magics of each Warden, like a separate melody, or an individual thread being woven together; the stoic power that was Cathbad, her mentor and the leader of the Wardens sparkling clearly in her minds eye, and though it all, the thrumming power of the Crown.

With a surge, Skathach pushes her way through the last of her huddling kin and swiftly turns the corner to the final corridor that leads to the great chamber. The dozen Guardians that stand within the hall hold their spears at ready for the enemy that would soon follow behind her. Without hesitation, she continues forward, the Guardians nodding their heads to her in small honor as she moves by on her way to the door behind them that is filled with a growing golden glow casting ever deeper shadows. The Guardians serve the Wardens, who in turn serve the Crown. It was always the way of things since the day the Crown was first entrusted to the Curoi in times long past. She used to think that would always remain the way, that is, until today. _Don't think about it. You know your duty._

Steps away from the door she skids to a halt as her path is suddenly blocked. The magic within the chamber is so strong now, the chanting filling her mind, it takes a moment before she even recognizes the large solid form of her father before her, a spear in each hand. "Father what…"

"Skathach." His gravelly voice interrupts her before she can even begin to ask, as he thrusts one of the spears to her to take, and slides as small travel pack from his shoulder to hand to her as well "There is little time. Your mother Foresaw that you would need this."

"But father, the ritual…"

"I know what the ritual does. But your mother Saw it and I won't question her last vision. She said that you'll need it, so you WILL need it." His tone, one of such finality, she suddenly finds herself feeling like a small child again and all thoughts of disagreeing fade. The severe crags of his face suddenly lighten for a moment in a sad tenderness "You have always done us proud daughter. Your mother has already made her journey to the shores of Avalon today, and I shall join her soon. One day we'll meet again in the Fortunate Isles." And with that, he steps by her, his face growing hard as he prepares to face the enemy a final time.

At that, she suddenly feels the full reality of the moment, as the sorrow and horror of the day threaten to engulf her. _After this day the Curoi will be no more._

A swell in the chanting in the chamber beyond sends a shock of magic through her and jars her from such dark thoughts. Pushing her feelings down, she steps into the room, letting herself open to the magic within and to take her part in the ritual. As she begins to add her voice, she vaguely hears terrified cries of the women and children, followed by the battle cry of the Guardians behind her, her ears easily picking out her father's voice among them. _Focus on the ritual, you'll see your family again soon enough._

The other Wardens stand in a circle, arms raised as they chant the words of the Old Religion. Without thought, they make space and Skathach smoothly fits into place among them, one arm raised while the other holds the spear and satchel from her father. As she properly joins the circle, she feels a sensation almost like that of a _click_ and the magic seems to shift, no longer a rhythmic throb, but a swirling rush like a whirlpool drawing upon all within the circle. Looking before her, she can see the pedestal upon which the Crown has rested for centuries, centered in the circle; the Crown itself glows, growing ever brighter and floating above it, lifted by the magic of the ritual, the swirl of energy focused upon it.

Seconds or lifetimes pass, she's no longer certain of which, as she stares at the simple circlet adorned with two sapphires floating before her. Feeling a pull, her eyes tear away to look upon Cathbad, across the circle from her and with a jolt, she makes eye contact with him.

_Skathach, it is time._ She hears Cathbad's calm voice within her mind as she sees the edges of his mouth turn to a smile while he continues to chant. _We have chosen you to be the Messenger._

Confusion at his words briefly skitters across her thoughts before she suddenly finds herself cut out of the ritual, staggering forward to collapse on her knees with a gasp. After a moment's disorientation, she looks back up to Cathbad, meeting his eyes once again. _Cathbad, I don't understand!_

_ You must bring word of Caladholg's fall to Camelot. The time of the Once and Future King is near, and Emrys must be warned. The rest of us shall complete the ritual, and the Crown shall be kept safe for now, but Emrys must claim the Crown before the Winter Solstice. If he does not, the Witch shall gain its power, and the dream of Albion will die in darkness. The hope of Albion is with you now._

Time suddenly slows around Skathach, as the power within the room thickens with golden motes.

The eyes of the Wardens and Cathbad flash gold a final time and then close as they start to fall.

The Crown flashes, becomes a dagger, and appears to fade like mist.

A dark haired woman stands in the door, blood drips from a dagger in her hand, dark magic twists about her, green eyes glint in maddened rage and she roars in denial.

The world explodes in gold, rushing wind, and howling fury.

Time starts again, and Skathach stands alone in moon shadowed woods.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 1_

It came as something of a shock to Merlin to realize he was standing. Well, in all honesty, just standing wasn't a shock, regardless of whatever Arthur said about his ability to do so reliably. However, standing next to his bed, fully dressed and holding the Sidhe Staff before him with its gemstone sparkling a shimmering blue, when he distinctly remembered going to bed was definitely on his 'List of Odd'.

Spinning about, Merlin looked around, taking stock of his surroundings. It was still dark, but he could tell he was in his room, easily recognizing the messy clutter of papers and piles of clothing about his floor, undisturbed, from where they were when he finally collapsed in bed earlier. His door was still closed, and no one else was in the room with him that he could hear or see, which was just as well, given the now obviously magical staff he was holding. The warning bells weren't ringing and no one was screaming in panic; no sounds of battle, explosions, maniacal laughter, dragons demanding a midnight rendezvous, or any of the other sounds that generally signaled trouble in Camelot. And other than the staff he held, no obvious magical effects.

_Just a normal night in Camelot. _

That thought alone sent a sudden shiver of foreboding through Merlin.

With a frown he reached within to pull upon his magic, hoping to gain some sense for what could be wrong now. His breathing deepened as his magic smoothly rose up to fill him, fluttering warm just under his skin, a sense of deep power, poised and held, like a wave frozen just before it breaks. Closing his eyes, his conscious slipped within the power and he began his search, slowly relaxing his hold upon the magic and sensing as it gently moved out from him, each beat of his heart pushing the magic outward like ripples of water on a still pond. Further and further it ghosted out, until he had the entire Citadel and nearly all the Lower Town covered in a delicate web of magic, and…_nothing._

With a frustrated huff of breath, Merlin released the technique and opened his eyes. It had taken a couple of months of practice, more than a few broken pots and vials (and an unfortunate incident involving a rabbit, a pair of Arthur's socks and platter of now malevolent cheese) for Merlin to figure out how to actively feel for magic. All in all, a rather useful skill to have, and worth the effort it took to master it, even with the evil glares he could sense from the cheese. But even with the ability he found nothing to account for his sudden sleepwalking affliction, or his sense of unease.

Merlin tossed the staff on his bed, its gem having grown dim again in the time he was sensing outward. Running his hands through his hair he tiredly dropped onto the edge of the bed. He could just feel that there was _something_ not right, though what, he couldn't quite say. It was almost a tense vibration, kind of like what he imagined a lute string would feel when it was plucked, that is, if a lute string was capable of feeling anything and not an inanimate object. _Though in fairness_, he thought, _being inanimate didn't seem to hinder the cheese_.

A sudden shuffling noise in the next room jolted Merlin from his ponderings and the glow of candlelight started to flicker beneath the door. Merlin quickly moved to the door and stepped down the stairs, preparing to assist Gaius with whatever sick or injured visitor he may have only to stop a few steps down in surprise. Gaius was alone, sitting at their table, head slightly down and favoring the tabletop with the sort of disapproving frown that he usually reserved for Merlin's more… inspired ideas.

"Are you ok Gaius?" Merlin's voice quiet with concern as he watched his mentor.

With a start, Gaius looked up "Merlin, whatever are you doing up?" His frown deepening "And dressed? You're not _actually_ trying to sneak out to the tavern to spell Gwaine's lucky tankard to spill his ale into his lap when he tries to drink from it are you?"

Merlin rolled his eyes "No, I'm not. Not that he doesn't deserve it," he hesitated, "actually, I'm not sure why I'm up and dressed. Just kind of found myself like this." Gaius' eyebrow rose in silent question and he rolled his shoulder in a sheepish shrug. "Why are you up?"

"I'm not really sure. It seems like there was…something." Gaius' tone a mix of thoughtful concern.

Merlin slid into the seat across from Gaius "Huh. So you felt it too? You know I tried to sense if there was something happening with magic, like a spell or another immortal army or such. Oh don't give me that look Gaius," he pointed with a slight grin as Gaius frowned again, "the cheese thing was just that one time and I haven't had a problem sensing for weeks now. Anyway, I felt down to the gates at Lower Town and couldn't find a thing."

"That doesn't necessarily mean anything Merlin." Gaius countered, "You were able to sense when the veil between worlds was torn, and that was on the Isle of the Blessed."

Gaius watched as Merlin's face fell, becoming subdued at the reminder of the events leading up to Lancelot's death. He reached out with a reassuring pat upon Merlin's hand before standing, "You should go back to bed. It is still several hours until dawn, and it would appear that there's nothing happening now for us to deal with. We can better think on it tomorrow after we've had a night's rest. "

"I suppose you're right." Merlin sighed, a wry smile faintly brightening his features "Wouldn't want to be late for Arthur's wake up call. When I left him for the evening he was still trying to memorize that speech he has to give tomorrow morning to the Tailors Guild. Increased import taxes on wool thread and the state of needle production in the kingdom aren't the type of topics that come naturally to the Dollop Head." The smile grew into a full grin "Then again, Arthur's late night study sessions always provide a chance for new and entertaining methods of waking him up. I have developed a theory that a sufficiently loud and sharp enough noise can startle woodworms with enough shock to kill them, but to be certain I think I should test it in the morning when the worms are most active. Do you think Audrey in the kitchens will let me borrow a couple of her old pots?"

Gaius shook his head with an exasperated chuckle as he shuffled toward his bed. "Honestly Merlin. Don't come complaining to me when Arthur decides that he needs a mobile target for spear training tomorrow."

* * *

As it turned out, Audrey needed nearly all of her pots for breakfast that morning, but she was willing to spare one larger one with a partially broken handle and an old metal ladle. A testing tap of the two produced a suitably irritating tone that would be certain to ring within the ears of the unsuspecting (or unconscious), so Merlin was satisfied. The only problem he had now was how he would carry Arthur's breakfast, his freshly cleaned shirt, the previous evening's sentry reports and his 'worm exterminating tools' all at once.

Which is how he came to be walking into Arthur's room with a pot on his head, a ladle hanging from his neckerchief, the clothes hanger in his mouth, platter of food in one hand, and the reports in the other. Sure he looked like a right idiot walking down the corridor, but sometimes sacrifices must be made in the fight against woodworms and deeply sleeping Royal Prats. And it wasn't as if Arthur was going to see him with a pot on his head anyway…

"_Mer_lin. I trust there is a good reason why you look like an even greater idiot than usual this morning."

Merlin froze with shock. "Murhphurr? Hhwut er oo oogn uff?"

Arthur smiled in perplexed humor as he leaned back in chair propping his feet up onto his desk, obviously quite alert, ready for the day, _and fully dressed_. "Really Merlin, I realize that certain basic social niceties are beyond your comprehension, but I know for a fact that Hunith raised you to never speak with your mouth full."

With a scowl Merlin scurried into the room, swiftly sliding the plate in front of Arthur and dropping the reports next to it. Pulling the hanger from his mouth he turned to place the shirt within the wardrobe. "You seem to be chipper this morning Sire. And what, pray tell, has prompted this long-awaited, though not unwelcome, bout of self-sufficiency?" With a quick glance over his shoulder, he could see the smirk drop from Arthur's face, bringing a grin to his own. _Ah, the simple joys of Prat-bating_. "Truly, all of Camelot will be quite happy to learn of this new development for their King."

"Merlin…"

"Though while some might scoff on the fact that it has taken more than 20 years for you to reach the point of being able to put on your own shirt and pants, I say, better late than never!"

"_Merlin…"_

Unfazed by Arthur's warning tone, Merlin continued on "Though perhaps you should have me double check your work Sire, just in case. We wouldn't want another falling pants incident to occur while in the middle of Council…"

Really, the flying chalice was expected, but the sudden reverberating clang as it hit the pot, instead of the back of his head was a surprise. Merlin's hands flew to his head, stilling the vibrations as he turned to face Arthur, "Ow! Hey!" His eyes widened is dawning surprise "That didn't hurt at all, though something could be done for the ringing noise. I bet some old padding from the armory could help that."

"Merlin, for the love of…" Arthur paused, at a loss for words, though if it was from anger or exasperation, it could be anyone's guess "Could you please just tell me why you have a pot on your head? And is that… a ladle in your neckerchief?"

"Mortar rats." Merlin replied without hesitation and is all seriousness.

"Mortar rats?" Arthur's tone clearly conveying his disbelief "And what, exactly is a mortar rat?"

Merlin scoffed at Arthur's obliviousness "Really Sire. They are rats that live in the mortar in castle walls and ceilings. How else do you think holes appear in the mortar?"

"_Riiight_. And these rats necessitate the pot because…"

"Well, if they are burrowing holes in all the mortar, then the stones the mortar is holding in place will fall out. I know _you're_ quite fond of receiving strong knocks to the head, but frankly, I much prefer to remain conscious. So thus," Merlin lightly rapped a knuckle on the pot to demonstrate, "some protection is warranted."

"And the ladle?"

Merlin's head cocked to the side for a moment in confusion before remembering said cooking utensil peeking out from its perch around his neck "Oh that, well…chin support."

Arthur frowned "Your chin needs support."

"I think most chins need support or they'll start to look like Agravaine's, or even worse like Gaius. Just think, if they had gotten some support from time to time their chins might not have started to merge into their necks." Merlin leaned toward Arthur, eyes slightly squinted "Actually Arthur, you might want to think of getting some support as well. You have hints of…sagginess near your right side already."

Arthur's chair scraped across the floor with a screech as he quickly stood, "My chin is perfectly fine!"

"Sure, it's fine now. I'm just saying that you might want to think about being a little proactive to keep it that way, that's all. You're not as young and fit as you used to be, and uncontrolled weight gain and hair loss are only some of the things you'll need to worry…" He trailed off, seeing Arthur's face begin to actually turn a shade of _purple_. Realizing that perhaps it would be best to now to stop poking fun at the grouchy Pendragon, Merlin began to edge out the door to safety. "You know Sire, I think Gaius has need of me for, well, something Gaius-y I'm sure." Ducking as an empty pitcher sailed over his shoulder, Merlin grinned, "I'll just leave you to your breakfast then."

* * *

**Well, there's the first chapter done. Please send your reviews, as suggestions and comments can only help me improve.**


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